Ashes to ashes
by FaceChanger
Summary: Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. But we all leave memories behind. A collection of one-shots. Main pairing MxM. Other pairings and characters included as well. Has finally been graced by Ye Gods of Fiction Rules, most notably Ye God of Commas.
1. Promises

Introducing the brand-new edited version of this. I like it much better, and the commas are in their proper places. Apparently, the comma god decided to finally grace me with a visit.

* * *

**I. Promises**

"Mello?" asked an eight year old Matt.

"Yeah, Matt?"

"Why did our parents die? Or well, why did the ones that love us die?" Matt's eyes, not yet veiled by goggles, were wide and innocent.

"They didn't have a choice Matty. They didn't want to die," Mello responded quietly.

"Oh. Well, then I promise you that I will never die while you are still alive," Mello almost laughed at Matt's solemn tone before realizing that Matt was serious.

"And I promise the same," Mello said with a slight smirk.

* * *

"I'm leaving Matt," Mello announced nonchalantly. Matt looked up from his game, startled. He turned it off, not bothering to save.

"What? Mello? Why?"

"L's dead; there's no reason for me too stay," came the muffled reply. Mello was bending down, taking stuff out of his closet and cramming it into the small bag.

"No reason to..." Matt repeated dumbly. _What about me?_ he was thinking, _Aren't I a reason to stay?_

"Yeah. Near's going to succeed L, and so I'm going to have to go make my own way in the world. I don't mind though," Mello laughed a little, not daring to betray his worry at the prospect.

"I'm coming with you right?" Matt asked anxiously.

"Nah, Matty, you need to stay here for a while longer," Mello smiled, sitting down next to Matt on the bed, "But when your fifteen you can come find me."

"When I'm fifteen..." Matt scowled and looked away from Mello petulantly.

"Look, I'll stay until the morning, okay?" Mello sighed.

"Mello, do you have to go?" Matt pleaded.

"I- I just do Matty, I'm really, really sorry, okay?"

"I know," Matt answered resignedly.

The two boys sat on their beds in an awkward silence. Eventually Mello stood up.

"Mello!"

"Relax Matt," Mello assured him, "I just had an idea. What if we pull a big prank to commemorate my leaving?"

"What kind of prank?" Matt asked dubiously.

"Well," Mello drew out the word, "I was thinking something that will make the kids at Wammy's go 'wow! That Mello was the best!' for years to come," Mello replied grinning.

"Steal the extra supply of sweets?" Matt suggested, his heart not into it. He knew Mello had wanted to do that for years. No other student had every managed to do it, and, while Mello had been into such "childish antics" when he was younger, since Near came Mello had been obsessed with being number one. This was just one last way to best Near.

"Exactly," Mello smirked, "Let's go," he walked out of the room confidently. Matt followed reluctantly.

That night Matt lay pretending to be asleep. He, along with Mello and the other children, had gorged himself on sweets, but they had all tasted too sickly sweet when he remembered that Mello was leaving the next day.

Matt heard someone moving in the room. No, Mello couldn't leave yet. He wouldn't. Would he? A gentle kiss was given to Matt on the top of his head, a gentle whisper passed from one boy to the other. "I love you, Matt," as the one walked out of the others life.

Matt turned over in dismay, and saw that the glaring red numbers on the clock read 12:01. They flashed, mocking him, because Mello had kept his promise. He vaguely became conscious of the fact that his pillow was wet. He hadn't even been aware that he was crying.

"Mello," he choked on the boy's name and collapsed into sobs.

* * *

When Matt left Wammy's the first thing he did was to hack into the files and make it appear as if he had died. He didn't particularly want Kira to find out about him, and he didn't doubt that Kira had the resources and the ability to hack into even Wammy's system.

Matt walked down the street, glancing around idly. He was sixteen and currently living in a crap apartment, taking illegal hacking jobs. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and a lighted cigarette dangled from his mouth. Done with it, he ground it onto the pavement. Walking on, he looked at the world through his recently acquired orange tinted goggles, noticing an ice cream parlor nearby. A girl and her boyfriend were sitting outside, sucking each other's faces off.

Not really having been paying attention to wear he was going, he bumped into a leather clad blonde.

"Watch where you're going fucktard!" the blond yelled angrily. Matt stiffened. Only one person in his whole life had said something too him like that.

But that person had been an angry drunk. He had beat Matt's mother to death and nearly done the same to Matt. He had killed himself before the police came. So who was this now?

"Sorry," Matt mumbled. His curiosity was piqued, though. There was something oddly familiar about the blond. So Matt turned around after a few paces and quietly followed him.

The blond looked back over his shoulder every few minutes but Matt, after years of pranks with and without Mello and training in Wammy's itself, was good at not being seen. However, at an intersection Matt lost sight of the blond. He sighed, turning around to go back to his crappy apartment. Absently he lighted another cigarette. His heart came to an abrupt stop as he came face to face with the blonde again.

"Why are you following me?" the blond demanded as Matt's heart restarted.

"You remind me of someone I used to know," was the simple reply. He was calm, not betraying any of his emotions, a trick adopted from Near.

"Fuck off, dork," the blond said. And he turned around and walked away.

"You bastard," Matt said suddenly.

"What?" The blond turned back to Matt, outraged and a bit startled.

"You don't…? You actually don't…?" Matt laughed coldly. It had a touch of irony to it, "You told me to come looking for you and now you don't even remember me."

"I have no idea, who the hell you are, but how about you FUCK OFF!" The blond yelled. Oh, he had a guess alright. But that was impossible. He turned around and stalked off.

"Mihael, please," Behind his goggles, Matt was fighting the urge to cry now. Was it possible that he actually didn't remember?

But Mello did. He froze.

"How do you know my name?" Mello asked, in a deadly calm voice that used to mean one of Matt's games was about to die.

"In an ice cream parlor when we were twelve, you told me," Matt tried to keep his voice even, but failed as his voice cracked a little at the end.

"I only ever told one person my name, and he's dead." Mello replied. Matt could hear he was trying not cry as well. Matt smiled a little.

"Do you think I would ever break a promise Mello?"

"Is it really you, Matt?" the blond took a hesitant step towards Matt.

"Yes, Mello, it's me."

Mello sat in the truck with Takada, trying to ignore her high pitched whining. The kidnapping had gone off with out a hitch. Until Matt was shot.

"Matt, I never thought you would die," It was the first time either boy had broken a promise. _You promised me Matt. We never break promises to each other._

Mello felt a searing pain rip through his chest. He knew exactly what was happening and his eyes widened. No, no, no, no! He couldn't die! That would mean Near would win! It would mean Mello would never become the next L! It would mean that- the thought trail was cut short as one last though flitted through his mind as he slumped forward onto the steering wheel. It would mean he would see Matt again.


	2. Memories

Let the great purge continue as I get another visit from Ye God of Commas and fix a brief tense shift. Very few changes to this one. One of the latest ones I've written and it shows it.

* * *

**II. Memories**

The sky is the pale blue color of midwinter. The clouds are thin and stringy. They look fragile, like they could break. The snow has melted, and the streets are messy with the slush that sticks to shoes and works its way into clothes. He stands on the side of the road, a cigarette in his mouth. He's staring up at the sky, wondering something. His eyes squint against the glint of the sun and he looks away.

Everything looks familiar, but he can't understand why they are all together. There is the house where his family was murdered. He sees a woman sitting on the porch. She has the same fiery, red hair that he does. He sees the orphanage he grew up in. Children run around outside, but he doesn't recognize any of them. There are two boys, both with black hair, that sit in the dirt together, scheming. The tree he and Mello used to sit under is bent and withered. It looks unloved. On the wall sits a scrawny looking boy, wearing goggles and playing a gameboy.

On his right is the crappy apartment building that he lived in for a couple of years. The windows of his old apartment are dark and empty. The whole building is a skeleton.

As he walks forward his foot crunches on an empty bottle. He recognizes the label. This was Mello's favorite.

He doesn't know how he got here. He doesn't even know where here is. But he knows that he is alone. He knows that, for the first time in years, he isn't wearing his goggles, the ones his best friend had given him when he first came to the orphanage. He knows that this isn't where Mello will be. Mello never saw any of this. He didn't witness his parent's death, they just left him. He didn't sit on a wall, missing someone who had left him. He didn't go out and search for that someone. He didn't fall in love with someone. At least, he never fell in love with the right someone. He thinks it all bitterly, but he doesn't mean it.

But why did all the bad memories resurface? Why are they the ones he is seeing? The answer is simple. They are the only ones that mattered. He feels it then: the pain, in his chest. He remembers then. He had tried to surrender. Give Mello more time. They'd shot him down though. They didn't even let him finish his goddamn cigarette. The wounds appear, now that he remembers them. They ooze blood slowly, far more slowly than they would on earth. So this was heaven then? Or maybe hell. He doesn't care. He decides to start at the beginning. So he walks to his house. The woman on the porch fades as he draws close. He pushes the door open softly. There are the two bodies lying on the floor, in a pool of blood. A little red haired boy standing in the middle of it all, horrified, as the killer laughs. It's a horrible laugh.

He's seen enough of this memory. He knows it only too well. He turns and leaves quickly. The orphanage is the next place. He doesn't know if this will be better or worse.

The first thing he sees is the worst memory he has. Mello was under their tree. Their tree. Kissing Near. Near of all people. Mello hates Near. Mello hated Near. All the betrayal, all the hatred, all the heartache rushes back and Matt struggles not to cry. But it doesn't really matter. There's no one to see.

Rushing away from that memory, Matt finds himself in pushing into Mello and his old room. Mello is lying on the bed, ranting. Near had beaten him in the rankings again, so Mello had broken off the relationship. This brought back no sadness to Matt, only a dull sense of victory and anger. Anger because he was there for Mello. Matt was always there for Mello. No matter what he said or did. Why didn't Mello love him back? Why?

The scene changes before his eyes. Mello is packing. Matt is crying on the bed. It's a much younger Matt. He still cries openly. Both Matts watch as Mello leaves. Memory Matt is still crying, but Matt feels an ache, a longing, and a peculiar hatred. Not at Mello, never at Mello. At Near. Why was Mello still in love with Near?

Finally Matt walks into the crappy apartment building. There are no memories here. It's silent. He praises any God there might be for the reprieve. He sits on the stairs, and for the first time in forever, he cries. Really cries. Because he's alone again. And Mello will never love him. Because Matt knows he's dead and Mello is still alive. And even if he goes searching he will never find Mello.

So he's surprised when he hears a sound. He's surprised when he sees someone else's figure in the light. Dust swirls and the figure has his back to the light. It's impossible to tell who it is. With the sunlight streaming around the person, it looks like an angel. But angels don't curse. And this one most definitely is. "Fuck it! Where the hell is this place? Am I dead? Fuck. If I'm dead I will murder someone."

Matt's voice is weak and watery as he calls out, "Mello? Is that you?"

"Who else, dipshit? Do you know where we are?" Mello tears down a cobweb angrily.

Matt wants to stop him. No, he wants to say. This place is sacred. Instead he says three little words he could never say when he was alive. "I love you."

Mello stares a moment at the red head. Then he laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs and Matt stares at Mello now. And he walks up and hits Mello across the face. It is something some part of him has been longing to do for a long time. Mello stops laughing and glares at Matt before slowly fading from sight. Matt sits back down on the stairs and lets his head fall into his hands as his shoulders shake. There is no doubt now. He has made it to the deepest, darkest pits of hell.


	3. Child

Once more, Ye God of Commas hath visited me. He was accompanied this time by Ye God of Useless Words Shall be Eliminated.

* * *

**III. Child**

Once, towards the end of L's life, L called Watari to his room. Watari came in to see a rather peculiar sight, or well, it was peculiar to Watari, it would have seemed normal to anyone else.

The raven haired detective sat cross-legged, instead of in his usual crouch, on his bed. He had his head in his hands and for once was not eating something sweet.

"Ryuzaki? What's wrong?" Watari asked, concerned.

The detective turned his big eyes, to the older man. The dark circles were more prominent than ever. "I'm tired, Watari, so tired," he sighed. L could feel it, the tiredness. It had set into his bones. "I feel ancient and weighed down, and yet, at the same time, I feel like a child again. I am confused and unsure of what to do next. It frightens me."

Watari sat down next to him and put an arm around the boy he was like a father to. This boy, his greatest success. He was so proud of him.

"I know, I know." Watari wanted to apologize; to tell him how wrong he was to make him like this. But he didn't because he knew now was not the time.

Lawliet needed a shoulder to cry on; he needed to be able to rant and rave and scream and sleep. God, the man needed sleep. But Watari knew that it was not that kind of tiredness that was plaguing the detective. It was a tiredness that ran much deeper than this, one that he himself had experienced. The best thing for L would be to finish the Kira case up quickly, and he should take a long vacation, perhaps even declare that L had retired. But of course, that wouldn't happen, because L was too damn stubborn for his own good.

And, so, Watari held L close as the young man cried. When L finished, Watari took out a handkerchief, dried L's eyes deftly, and helped the man change and get ready for bed, just like he had when L was a child, plagued by memories of his past.

He tucked L into bed, smoothed his hair back, turned out the light, and left.

Watari made his way down to the kitchen and made L a hot bowl of soup. He carried it carefully up the stairs. But when he got back up to the detective's suite, he found L already at his computer again, going over evidence yet again. Sighing, Watari left.


	4. Made to be Broken

Dear gods, I do not remember writing this one. A songfic. My goodness... at least it makes some sense and isn't just randomly playing music. And the fic isn't centered around the music. So not really a songfic. Just sort of.

This chapter was visited by Ye God of Melodramatics, Ye God of Commas, and Ye God of Angst. Tada!

* * *

**IV. Made to Be Broken**

The suit was hot and rather stuffy. Mello felt like he couldn't breathe through it. The church was decorated beautifully for the wedding. People were sobbing as the couple exchanged vows. Matt looked so handsome in his tux, but Mello liked his stripes and goggles better. And Mello wished it was him standing next to Matt, not that woman in white. He wished the woman was dead. He wished she had never been born. Because, even if Matt didn't ever seem interested in Mello, there had been the possibility that he would at some point realize he felt the same way as Mello. But that had never happened, and now Matt was getting married and everything was ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.

The worst part was what the bride looked like. She was Asian, and all that came with it: the sleek, beautiful black hair, the slanted eyes which Matt had always like, and the flat nose. She was absolutely beautiful and the exact opposite of Mello. Where Mello was all sharp angles she was soft edges. She was calm where he was angry. She was kind where he was cruel. She was quiet and thoughtful where he was loud and obnoxious. She never needed someone to scream at her to calm down before she hurt someone. She had never had Matt come into her room in the middle of the night because he had a bad dream. She had never seen Matt in his stripes or when he was focused on nothing but his newest game. And Mello wasn't sure she knew Matt at all.

Mello watched dejectedly as they slid the rings onto each other's fingers. Matt's fingers were long and slender, gamer fingers. Mello really didn't know Matt's girlfrie- wife. He tried to hold back resentment as Matt kissed her dramatically, literally sweeping her off her feet, and the entire church laughed and applauded. As people packed tightly around the couple, now that the service was over, Mello found himself being pushed toward the front. And suddenly he was standing in front of Matt.

Tearing his gaze away from Matt and his wife's interlocked hands, Mello forced a smile. He stuck an arm around Matt and laughed loudly. The noise was false and hollow even to his ears. "Congrats Matt! Never thought you could do it!" Matt grinned widely at his best friend.

"Yeah, I know. Now it's your turn, Mello!" he relied tactlessly. Mello's smile dropped a fraction of an inch. He nodded stiffly and smiled again before walking away, leaving other people to greet Matt and his wife.

The reception was held in the ball room of a hotel. Everyone was dancing with someone else. Mello stood alone in a dark corner, a glass of wine in his hand. It was his tenth, maybe his twelfth. He had lost count. The song ended and a new one came on. He knew the song well. It was the song that had been playing at the dance that Matt had met his wife at. Of all the songs they could meet to. Why did it have to be one that fit Mello so well?

_And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_

But Mello did want to go home. He wanted to curl up and cry and never ever see the daylight again.

_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight_

That at least was true. The absence of Matt's presence in the crappy little apartment had been reaching the point of oppressive.

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

He had never told Matt he was gay. He didn't want to be here at the wedding. People gave him strange looks as he glared at the bride.

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
Yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive_

Mello tried to curl in on himself as he watched the two dance. He had to admit they looked perfect together.

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am_

_And I don't want the world to see me  
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am _

Oh hell. He was one of L's successors. He should be able to take on his best friend. As Matt came over to him laughing, Mello dropped all pretenses of a smile. "Matt… I need to tell you something. I… I think that…"

"Spit it out Mels!" Matt was drunk. Of course he was drunk. So was Mello. But Matt never called him Mels anymore, it was painfully good to hear.

"I love you." It was whispered, but to Mello it felt as if the whole room hushed. Matt seemed to sober up a bit.

"Mello, I'm married now," the apology was evident in Matt's voice, the request for forgiveness more so. Mello's eyes, like windows, shattered. Perhaps that was just the wine glass as it hit the tiled floor.

Mello brushed past Matt harshly. He didn't say a word. People watched him silently as he stalked out of the ballroom.

He ripped off the tie as he made it to his car. The suit jacket was discarded to somewhere in the night. He slammed into his car and drove back to his home. Mello never cried. Not since the death of L. He cried now.

* * *

Matt was ecstatic as he returned from his honeymoon, a little over a month later on August 25. He had forgotten entirely about the incident in the ballroom. He barely remembered anything from that night.

He was surprised to see several messages on his home phone. Everyone he knew knew he was on his honeymoon.

He paled as he listened to them. One after another.

_Matt, it's Mello. I'm sorry about what happened at your wedding. You won't have to deal with something like that again. Click._

The memory of what was said came back with a vengeance. He hoped the message hadn't meant what he thought it meant.

_Mr. Jeevas, this is the police department. We need you to come and identify Mr. Keehl's body. You are listed as the next of kin. We are very sorry for your loss. Click._

Matt sank into a chair, clutching the phone to his ear.

_Mail, it's Roger. I know you were close to Mello. I'm so sorry for your loss. We have scheduled the funeral for August 23. We assumed you would like to attend. Click._

His wife walked in and asked worriedly what was wrong. He just shook his head at her.

_Matt, it's Near, I'm sorry that Mello is dead. He had a good mind. Click._

Near, always so formal, so dispassionate. Matt barely heard the words.

_Matt, it's Linda! I'm so sorry! I heard about Mello! It's just awful! And the note he had on him. Apologizing for not being good enough! The poor guy! Click._

And on, and on, and on, and on. Yet Matt still couldn't process the fact that Mello was dead. His Mello was dead. His best friend was gone.

* * *

What is this? An after the story AN? Unheard of! Basically this is the last of these. Not only am I not really active in the Death Note fandom, I also don't think they're that good. Sorry to whoever read this.

~insanepersonishappy


End file.
